I feel my whole life was about getting six pack abs, (OK maybe not my whole life, but it was an obsession). If I could just work out more, more sit ups, do more cardio I would get there. Then when that didn't work I was sure it was what I was eating. So, I cut out all the things I love, (just to feel guilty each time I put a donut in my mouth), it was torture, ladies you know what I am talking about!. I thought I even had an eating disorder because I would hide what I was eating from the hubby, as if he didn't know after seeing the Doritos bags floundering about. But I continued to work out hard and be unhappy with what looked back in the mirror. If I could just loose that last 10 lbs, I would be happy, right? I would beat myself up for not staying on the treadmill long enough, I mean look at all those other people who can run for miles on end . . . fuckers, I would say (yes I be hatin'). 10 more pounds and I would get that six pack and be happy! Funny story . . . then I got cancer, and I had chemo and couldn't eat a damn thing. The smell of food made me want to vomit, I couldn't eat more than a palm size meal at any given time and I lost those 10 lbs in a heart beat. 5 lbs, then 10 lbs then 15 lbs . . . all my dreams were coming true. F!

So, my obsession about food and loosing weight turned into obsession about what could I digest without pain. Digestion was a full-time job, in the beginning it would hurt to eat. Not just the fear of the digestion, but also the fear of would it be able to pass out of the other end? (TMI, but that too was a full-time job). Acid reflux, heartburn, and nausea became my cross to bear. Nothing seemed to ever want to pass that lump in my chest. I would cry hours after I ate because it still did not pass. WTF was this shit?! I would think. It was a nightmare. I still craved the pizza and fries, only now I knew if I ate it there would be consequences . . . and yet sometimes I still did because it was the only thing that brought me a moments peace. The silver lining . . . I lost that last 10 lbs I had been gunning for all those years. All these years I have been punishing myself, killing myself at the gym and eliminating all the foods I love, and all I had to do to lose weight, was to go on the chemo diet. Duh!

**Side note- I didn't have that 6 pack that I was convinced was under there, by the way. And for once I don’t care . . . Ok that's a lie, I was like, WTF? That's some BS, where the hell is my 6 pack?!

As I write this today I feel great, so no woe is me, that food nightmare is in my rear view. I am on my last leg of chemo called, Taxol, and it doesn’t have half the side effects of those first 4 rounds, (Thank the Lord!) Summer has sprung just in time and I can eat normal things again (within reason). So, what had me bring this up? Glad you asked, well in case I haven’t mentioned it, there is a very good chance I will have at least one of my breast chopped off. Yes, the imminent surgery looming has given me a new-found respect for every inch of my body. I DO NOT want to have the conversation, “Don’t worry you can just get implants.” It is not that simple and I do not want to educate you all before I know the outcome for me, so let’s shelve that convo. I want to make you present to the gift called your body. Stand naked in the mirror and take a look. Now imagine having any part of it chopped off. The end. Not gonna get anymore morbid then that . . . for now. AND this is not about my boobs getting chopped off (sort of, no shit I am really scared about that).

This is about how I have started to realize how much I haven’t appreciated this entire vessel over my 36 years. And how if I had a daughter and she spoke about her body they way I did, I would throw her into therapy and got her some serious help. That goes for my friends as well. I don’t know many people who love their body 100% exactly how it is and exactly how it isn’t. It’s not wrong, it just makes me sad. We don’t realize the endless conversations about losing weight impacts our self esteem and our entire way of being. There is nothing like the possibility of having a chunk of you cut off to make you realize how much you have mistreated this vehicle that takes you though your everyday life.

I am declaring a love for my body, exactly how it is, and exactly how it isn’t. I won't always love it, and it will take some reminding but I want to appreciate every inch of it as long as I can, because sometime soon I may not have those pieces anymore (not to be morbid about it) but it's true. So, ladies love your bodies, however they are and however they are not, because I know most of you who read this and you are all stunning and fucking beautiful. Period.

**Side note, I am not saying not work out for your health. Your health is all you have. I am saying forgive yourself for not looking like an Instagram model, that shit be filtered. Ha ha!!!

Chemo treatment round # 4 has arrived! I am reminding myself that that would officially mean I am 50% through this chemo shit! Hooray! Right? Parades and bottle popping is in order! I should be celebrating, being positive and happy I made it this far? And I am . . . well I want to be at least. It's quite unbelievable, (to me at least), that I have made it this far, since my great escape is all I think about. I have a backed bag hidden in the back of the closet (Corey this post is not for you to read), a sweet air bnb on standby and my passport ready to go, I think living out my last days on a beach somewhere would be more my speed. I joke, (am I joking?), but I really fantasize about escaping this whole fucking, "I have cancer thing," about 75% of the time. I mean I have lived a pretty good life thus far, right? I have traveled the world, driven a speed boat or two, owned a business, married the hottest guy, I even shaved my head, so what else is there?? (I really wanted to meet Denzel Washington, but I am willing to let the one slide). I know how this sounds. You all believe in me and have supported me since the beginning, (so I apologize for the bitching in advance). Not to mention I come from a long line of strong, “Don’t mess with me because that would be the last mistake you ever made,” line of women. But this is such a mind fuck because you know the funny thing about cancer? You don’t feel like you have cancer until you try to, “cure” it. You can’t feel it. If I didn’t find that lump in my boob no one would be the wiser. I mean I would be worse off in the long run (So yes ladies, CHECK YOUR BOOBIES!!), but I didn’t feel sick. It wasn’t until I started injecting the remedy, into my veins, that I started feeling, what I would assume cancer should feel like, like I had actual cancer. (Disclaimer: Cancer doesn’t feel like anything, it is the silent killer so don’t take my bitching about chemo as a reason not to have chemo if you need it, don't get it twisted it is saving my life). So unfortunately quitting is not an option (obviously). As my hubby would say, “You are no quitter, never have been, never will be.” OK, I know, I know.

So like I was saying, I know I should be happier today. After today, (and if it all goes well), this treatment will mark the half way mark, but that still means I have to do this 5 MORE TIMES, (including today). I know that doesn’t sound like a lot. And considering people do rounds and rounds of this in some cases, I should be grateful. (I am only saying what some of you are thinking, but don’t get it twisted I know for some of you one round would have you throwing in the towel). I have even heard tales that some women go to work while doing chemo, (now that may or may not be true but I am clear that whatever chemo cocktail they have me on doesn't allow me to function as a normal human being for more than a few hours at a time each day, even on a good day, so whomever those women are, deserve a fucking metal!). I mean I have never met any personally, but that's why they are called tales, (gotta love those tales), of, "I knew a woman who . . .). Mind over matter, right? (You all know how I feel about that fucking statement so please don't go there).

A lot of people have been asking me, “but is it any easier, now that you know what to expect?” To which I reply, “Ummmm yes and no. Right when I think I know what is coming and how to manage it, something new pops up and I am back to figuring out a new way to manage that.” I am still out of commission for 6-8 days following chemo and it still sucks ass and I hate it. On the plus side, I didn’t have to feel my hair ripping from my scalp in my sleep this time. That is a silver lining, right? LOL! Now I am a bald baddass, doing chemo with no hair troubles.

The biggest news is that the tumor is ACTUALLY SHRINKING!!! I suppose I could have led the post with this news. LOL! Now this does deserve a party!!! My Oncologist measured it a couple weeks ago, and said, "You must feel to the touch that the tumor is softer, less hard then it was initially?" Me: Yes, but I didn't want to get my hopes up." I was happy OF COURSE! It also meant the chemo is working which on one hand meant, YES this was all worth it, and on the other hand meant, "Fuck its working, can't quit now!"